


Humanity Doesn't Come With An Endoskeleton

by shopfront



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: F/M, post-season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-03
Updated: 2010-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's messed up, and confusing, and she's a robot for crying out loud. If anything is ever going to happen, it's going to be at least a little messed up and unconventional, and they're going to spend their time together reminding themselves that they're a human and a robot, not just two people potentially in love. (Post-Season one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humanity Doesn't Come With An Endoskeleton

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supacat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=supacat).



_Come with me if you want to live._

"I was sent here to protect you."

"Yeah, I gathered that."

"There is a known safe location approximately three hours and seventeen minutes from here. We can gather supplies there before moving on."

"Wait, _moving on_? We're not moving anywhere without my mother!"

"Sarah Connor is the best fighter you know, she can defend herself adequately. Mission priority is to remove all threats to John Connor."

"I'm not leaving her behind!"

"You are trained to run from danger. This is danger."

"I won't run without her."

"You were able to run without her while at school."

"Yeah, well, I didn't get very far, did I? Turn around!"

"We do not know her location. You should attempt to contact her first."

He never gets around to mentioning that the pretty girl from his first day of school was actually a cyborg. He hypothesises that his mother would never let him attend class again if she found out he had let his guard down there.

In his head, it becomes their silent secret.

 

_John has a high level of stress. I did a brief analysis. Surface skin temperature high, salinity high, pulse abnormal._

It's salt in the wound, a deceptively gentle caress that he doesn't understand, can't explain. Couldn't explain unless she was human, and humanity doesn't have an endoskeleton.

If he'd thought about it, he'd have noticed something was up. He has to remember that. That there's metal under that deceptively pretty skin, and that sunny smile that, yes, she was right, did fool him.

For days he mulls over asking her about it, trying to determine what technology or programming might have been behind that touch. Eventually he admits he's lying to himself. He isn't going to ask because he doesn't want to know; doesn't want to be able to slap a scientific, emotionless explanation on it.

He wants to pretend that there isn't anything up.

 

_She's a machine, she doesn't have a soul and she never will. You don't have to trust her, you can trust me._

For all his decisive words, it is almost easy to forget. Forget that she's just a machine. Forget that in some ways, she isn't.

He had been so sure that he had his eyes wide open. No pretences and no illusions: he was aware and awake to what she was, and to what she'd done for them. What she could do _to_ them. He wasn't going to be blinded by raw emotion and attachments, not like Derek said he was. Not like Derek was. He wouldn't draw arbitrary lines in the sand and expect them to never shift.

He'd been so sure that he had no illusions. She was just a machine, with pretty hair and soft skin that hid her mechanical parts. Just a machine who trusted him to protect her chip, and to protect her. To let him make her vulnerable enough to need his protection.

He'd been so sure.

 

_Set the pliers over the shielded tab on the end of the chip. Half a turn clockwise, and pull it out. It's okay, John. It's not the first time we've done this._

"You said we've done that before. You mean in the future, right?"

"Yes."

"So in the future, you... you trusted me to do that? Even with a whole rebel army around us, of which I'm guessing a fair number had less than pleasant feelings towards you?"

"Yes."

_"Why?"_

"I suspected my reprogramming was not as complete as you thought it was. I had calculated a 9.872% chance that my self-assessment was correct, and that I would turn on you."

"You let me crack your head open for a nine point whatever chance that you _might_ go bad?"

"That is nearly ten percent. You used me in more than one mission, increasing the likelihood of my endangering you at a critical moment. I knew that if you re-examined my programming, you would find and correct any flaws and I would no longer be a threat to you."

"So... did I find anything?"

"No."

 

_In the future you have many friends._

"Were we close, in the future?"

"I was often close to you. I protected you."

"No, I mean... I don't know what I meant. Did we, I don't know, talk much?"

"We talked often. You often remained separate from the others, for security. You sent us on missions to communicate with the other rebels on your behalf."

"But did we ever talk about things that weren't related to a mission?"

"You are asking if you confided in me? Were you, or we, emotionally attached to each other?"

"Well... yeah, I guess."

"You would not have sent me back if you did not trust me enough to confide in me."

"I suppose not-"

"You told me about your favourite book, and about Sarah Connor. You told me a lot about her. You didn't tell anyone else about Sarah Connor, except Kyle Reese. Does that mean we were close?"

 

_She would not be the first human fooled by a machine._

The first time Cameron observed how he enjoyed the different ways she moved her hands across his skin, John flipped out and fled the room. For weeks he refused to look at her, or interact with her, or even be within twenty feet of her if he could possibly avoid it. In hindsight, he wonders how much of that was luck and how much was planned: how she knew not to touch him until they were moving towns and changing names again; until his freaking out could be covered up as teenage sulking over not having a normal life.

The second time she touched him, he called her all kinds of horrible names. He accused her of being programmed to seduce him, and compared her to Vick Chamberlain.

The third time she touched him, she said that it was simply something she thought she should do, like small talk. The third time, he lets her.

 

_I sent Cameron to get a cake._

Six months before Judgement Day, John wakes up screaming with his ears ringing and visions of fire in his head.

"I got you a cake, and I didn't get blown up this time," Cameron says from the doorway, before moving to his side.

"That's good to hear." His breath is catching in his chest as he struggles to get his bearings.

"Did you dream of fire again?"

"I always dream of fire on my birthday."

"I have fetched you many cakes on your birthday now, and I've only been blown up once. You should try not to dream of it." She strokes the side of his face, and pushes his sweaty hair away.

"It doesn't work like that." He pauses, smiles. "Is that effective?"[what?]

"I can see that you like it."

"Did you get chocolate?"

"Yes. With vanilla frosting, just like you asked."

"Good. At least my last birthday cake will be exactly what I wanted."

"This will not be your last birthday, John Connor. You will have many more."

"But you won't be able to fetch cake for them."

"Then you can stop dreaming about fire on your birthday."

"It's not the fire I dream about, Cameron; it's you on fire."

"I have a metal endoskeleton, John. I do not burn well."

"I know, but I dream about it anyway."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for supacat for the [Sarah Connor Chronicles Flash Fiction and Art Challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/schronicles/25918.html). Prompt: John/Cameron, John thinks he has no illusions about Cameron.


End file.
